


Chicago Nights

by igavemyall



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Detective, F/M, Multi, Mystery, noir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-13
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:39:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27540022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/igavemyall/pseuds/igavemyall
Summary: It's 2020 and like all of us, Drew's life is on a downward spiral. No friends. No family. Just a legacy of bullying and cruelty. Now 25, she's moved back to her hometown of Chicago and working as Private Investigator to make ends meet and is doing her best to just leave her time at Camp Half-Blood in the past. Trying to both stay under the radar and figure out how to be a better person, she's dragged back into the same magical world she tried to escape.This is my attempt at giving her a backstory and redemption arc and play around with the detective noir genre so enjoy it if you like.
Relationships: Aphrodite/Drew Tanaka, Drew Tanaka/Leo Valdez, Jason Grace/Drew Tanaka
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Chicago Nights

She felt the walls of her apartment slowly start to close in on her. The taste of Jack Daniels still strong on her tongue and stench of cigarette smoke clinging to her clothes. She fell back onto her couch, the whiskey spilling out her bottle and onto the rough, sickly green couch cushion.

“Shit,” Drew mumbled herself, dragging her palm across the wet spot, “Every fucking time,” 

She listened to the sounds of the soft rain hitting her windowsill in the comforting darkness of her apartment. After spending so many years at Camp Half-Blood, she didn’t think she’d ever get use to being on her own again, but she found a strange comfort in the emptiness of her apartment. She wasn’t wasting her days gossiping and looking for things that her half-siblings might have stolen from her. Now she was wasting her days following cheaters for money and drinking. Like an adult, she would tell herself as she started her day with a glass of whiskey. Her days usually starting at around one in the afternoon, if she isn’t working a case, but lucky for her in a city like Chicago she’s almost never without work. 

As she started to feel her eyes become heavy, she heard her Nokia’s ringtone cut through the silence, startling her and making the bottle slip from her hands. She reached behind her and took her phone out of her back pocket to answer.

“Hell…,” she let out a cough into the receiver, “Hello?”

“Drew,”

“Pastor O’Neil!” Drew excitedly yelled, “What are you up to this evening?”

“Have you been drinking again?”

Drew glanced at the now empty bottle of whiskey on her floor.

“Only a little,” she laughed.

“I’m worried about you, Drew. It’s been five years since you came home and all you’ve done is work and drink. When you left for that camp you things were finally looking up for you. What the hell happened?”

A poignant silence fell between them. Drew took in a deep breath to steady the emotions boiling inside her.

“Nothing happened at the camp,” she assured him, “It was all just great,”

“Have you heard of the ninth commandment? Thou shall not bear false witness against thy neighbor. It means don’t lie to me. Well, not exactly. It means don’t lie about others, but my point still stands. If things were as good as you try to convince me that they were you wouldn’t have come back to Chicago,”

“I just…,” Drew trailed off, unable to find the right words. She bit back the tears welling up in her eyes, determined not to cry like she so often did when drank too much, “I just needed to figure some things out. I’ll go back when I’m ready,”

“I just want what’s best for you,”

“I know what’s best for me,” She heard the pastor let out a disappointed sigh.

"Whatever you say. I just called to tell you that I have a case for you. Come by the church tomorrow when you’re free. Sober, preferably,” she heard the line go dead.

Drew tossed her phone onto the couch cushion. She let out a deep sigh of relief. Pastor O’Neil always had a special way of making her feel even more like shit than she already did. That good Christian concern she was meant to make her feel at ease only served to remind her of just how unworthy she really was. She recalled what he told her right before she left for Camp Half-Blood.

“You’re meant for better things, Drew,” he told her, “And this camp will help you find a better place,”

Drew scoffed. She was nothing if not consistent in being his favorite disappointment. 

She forced herself off the couch, letting out a long groan as she stretched her arms above her. She stood in place for a few seconds, appreciating the silence before making her way to bedroom, leaving the empty whiskey bottle on the floor.

The bedroom was small; almost claustrophobic. The yellowing walls were barren aside from the few water damage stains and the carpet that was stained from five years’ worth of nights spent spilling drinks and cleaning the bloody messes her cases would sometimes leave her in. She stood over her unmade bed and pulled her tank top and bra over her head. She tossed the pieces onto the floor, not meaning to accidentally catching a reflection of herself in the full body mirror that leaned against the wall.

She stared at her exhausted reflection. Long dark hair, once curled to perfection, now disheveled and pencil straight. The dark circles under her deep brown eyes only added to her already perpetually tired look. She looked down at the makeup bag resting on the floor in front of the mirror. As accustomed as she had become to apathy, it felt like her makeup was the last thing in her life that still brought her some semblance of happiness. She walked up to the makeup bag, carefully putting her drugstore makeup into the bag and zipping it closed before moving it to the top of her dresser. She unbuttoned her jeans and kicked them to the corner with the rest of her worn clothes and crawled into bed, pulling the heavy covers over her chilled body. She curled herself around another pillow then pulled the cover closer to her body. She closed her eyes. It wasn’t long before she finally succumbed to sleep, drifting off into another dreamless night.

The blissful sleep was broken by the sound of loud, relentless knocking at her door. She was careful and slow to move.

“Open up, you scamming bitch!” she heard a shrill voice call from the other side. Drew let out a loud groan before getting out of her bed and throwing on whatever clothes she picked up off the floor, a Chicago Bears t-shirt and a pair of plaid lounger shorts. She made her way across her apartment, stepping over the mess, and pulling the door open with a fiercely angered expression.

Standing at the door with her hands on her hips was a middle aged white woman with her dyed blonde hair cut short around her shoulders. She was dressed in a white designer business suit.

“Are you trying to get robbed?” Drew asked sarcastically, looking the woman up and down. The woman pushed past Drew and forced her way in, examining the apartment in complete disgust.

“This,” she said with a grimace and pointing at the mess with a manicured finger, “Is totally unprofessional,”

“What are you doing here? We were supposed to met at a bar,” Drew asked, making sure to shut the door as quietly as possible.

“Yeah! We were supposed to! An hour ago! I’ve been calling your phone nonstop!” she looked over to the empty bottle of whiskey and turned to Drew with a knowing expression, “Well that explains it,”

“Look,” Drew walked to the whiskey bottle and picked it up, hiding her own disgust with her apartment, “I can give you the pictures of your husband---,”

“That would best,”

Drew took in a deep breath and slowly released it, curbing any snide remarks she wanted to say to her paying client.

“Wait here,” Drew managed to say without sounding too annoyed. She placed the bottle on the coffee table and walked back to her bedroom, finding her camera in the top drawer of her dresser. Shockingly, not dead. Just on the brink of it. She came back to the living room to see the woman standing with her arms crossed over her chest and passing a judgmental eye across her apartment.

“How do you just…live like this?” she finally asked, “In this apartment. On this side of town. In actual squalor,”

“Some of us are broke, Sharon,” Drew replied sardonically, “Anyway. I have a joke for you; to lighten the mood a little. What does your husband have in common with my mom?”

Sharon raised a wary eyebrow.

“They’re both cheaters,” she handed Sharon the camera and watched the shock overcome her client’s face as she looked through picture after picture of her husband’s affair.

Sharon moved her eyes from the camera to Drew, rage burning behind them. 

“You fucking cunt,” she spat before tossing the camera back to Drew. Drew just fell back onto her couch.

“I’ll take my payment in cash,” she smiled.

“I’m not paying you anything! You’ve been nothing but unprofessional! And that little joke you just made costed you your tip!”

A tense quiet settled between them with Drew staring up at her with narrowed eyes.

“No, it didn’t. Pay me my $510 now. Without complaint,” Drew watched Sharon’s expression turn from angry to vacant. Her eyes became void of all emotion as she reached into her Gucci purse and pulled out the cash.

“And an extra $300 for my tip and expenses,” Drew added. Just as before, Sharon obeyed without question. Drew took the money from her hand, “When you get back to your car, be sure to give me a good review on Yelp and drive back home. Now get out,” 

Drew watched Sharon leave her apartment, the sound of her beige heels echoing as she made her exit. She got up from the couch and walked to her door, quietly closing it once again but this time making sure to lock her apartment. She turned to face the offensive mess that seemed almost never ending. She could feel the shame rising inside her as she looked at the clothes, plates and empty glass bottles of vodka and whiskey scattered across the floor. She fell back against the door. She slid down to the cold hardwood floor. She hugged her knees close to her chest, trying to figure out when it became so filthy.

She was brought back to reality when she heard the jingle of her phone shutting down. She gathered what little energy she still had and walked to where her phone was. She picked it up off her couch cushion, catching her sickly expression in the reflection of her screen. She suddenly remembered her conversation with Pastor O’Neil but instead of feeling that sense of urgency she knows she should have, she sauntered back to her room and plugged it into the charger on her nightstand before starting the long process of getting ready.

The process itself wasn’t all that long. She just liked to make it long. She found the process of doing her hair and makeup therapeutic. Sitting on the floor of her room and carefully applying her makeup in the mirror still felt like one of the few constants in her life that helped soothe her troubled thoughts. Even if only for an hour or two, depending on what look she decided for the day. Today, she decided that a natural look would fit her best. Mostly because she wasted enough time in her shower, playing scenario after scenario of all the ways Pastor O’Neil was going to lecture her once he saw her. She finished brushing her hair back into a ponytail and picked herself off the floor, ready to start her day of pretending to be fine for the sake others.

Drew left her apartment with her camera hanging around her neck, her phone still shut off and a pack of Marlboro cigarettes in hand. She drove to Haven for the Lost Church. A fitting name for the south side of Chicago. Drew was intimately familiar with it as it served as a haven for her through most of her childhood. She recalled bouncing from foster home to foster home and somehow always finding her way back to Haven for the Lost Church like a moth to a flame. It was safe. It was home. Pastor O’Neil acting like the shepherd for the lost, guiding them into the loving light of God. It only made that sense that she found herself back where she felt safest. She brought a hand to the small sterling silver cross that hung around her neck. She would hardly call herself a believer in the Christian God, knowing what she knows, but it always brought her a small amount of comfort. A reminder that she always a place to go when she needed help.

She pulled into the empty parking lot of the church. She parked her 2004 Honda Civic next to Pastor O’Neil’s beat up old Ford. She stepped out of her car, trying her best to keep her balance on the icy asphalt. She slid her box of Marlboros into the pocket of her puffy black jacket as she entered.

She took in the peaceful quiet of the church. It was a rather run-down place with metal fold out chairs where the pews would be in a normal church. The church didn’t even have a podium at the front where the priest would tell his sermon. Just one fold out chair in front of all the others, but rather than seeing the warm smile of Pastor O’Neil waiting for her, she saw the face of a ghost from years before. 

Sitting where Pastor O’Neil should be, she saw Jason Grace sitting with his legs crossed and a Bible open across his lap. His brow furrowed downward into a confused expression as his electric blue eyes read across the pages.

“What the hell are you doing?” Drew snapped. Jason looked up at her, peeking over the golden glasses that rested on the bridge of his Roman nose.

“Reading, Drew. This is suppose to be the loving and forgiving god that mortals worship now?” he scoffed, “I don’t know if I like you reading such strange and violent nonsense,”

“You tried to kill a pregnant woman because you thought she wasn’t good enough for your son and you want to have a go at the Bible for having strange and violent stories? That sounds like the batshit crazy pot calling the batshit crazy kettle black,”

“Yes, but at least what I did is relatable to many mothers! Who is going to relate to a pregnant virgin? Come on now. Is it too much ask that their stories make a little more sense?” he replied defensively, “But while we’re on the subject of mothers. Is that attitude any way to greet yours?”

Drew could feel the anger rising inside her.

“I don’t know what fucked up plan you have showing up looking like Jason but leave me out of it,” Drew stepped inside in the church and slamming the door shut.

“I thought you would like this form!” Drew stormed towards Aphrodite, fury burning in her dark eyes.

“Coming to me like this was cruel and you know it. You knew exactly what you were doing when you chose to come as him,” Drew confronted. 

“You can’t still blame me for Jason’s death,” Aphrodite’s demeanor turned frosty. She stood up and slowly approached Drew with all the confidence of someone unbothered by her daughter’s petty emotions. She reached forward to take Drew’s between her fingers, “Was his death so profound that you decided to switch sides?”

“I didn’t switch to any side,” Drew pulled her necklace away from her mother, “And I never blamed you for his death,” 

“Falling in love is a curse all my kids have, you know this,”

“No, falling in tragic love is a curse we all have. Silena and Charles. Piper and Jason. Me and…,” she trailed off.

“Go on. Finish that sentence,” Aphrodite ordered her in an infuriatingly condescending tone. Drew looked down unable to admit that if she were to finish her thought she’d have to admit that she was every bit as unlovable as she thought she was. She had no one.

“You know, for a goddess of love you sure are a vicious cunt,” 

Aphrodite cupped Drew’s cheek, gently coaxing her head up so she could see how deep the pain truly was in her daughter’s eyes.

“Like mother like daughter so it seems,” she said with a chillingly cold smile, “I came here to give you a gift, dear. Not fight. So why don’t you---,” 

“No,” Drew pushed her hand away, “No, I don’t want anything from you. Anything that comes from the gods always comes with a catch. Just take your blessings and whatever plans you have and fuck right off,

Aphrodite straightened her back, making it a point to stare Drew down with an icy glare. Drew felt a weight drop to the pit of her stomach and turned her gaze away, shrinking away from the goddess. Aphrodite took a step forward. She took a step back.

“I have given you blessing after blessing and you continue to turn your back on your siblings. You turn your back on me, and I am not the goddess you want as your enemy,” her eyes narrowed into a fierce glare, “Nonetheless. I have a gift for you. You’ll get it in time. Use it wisely,” 

“Drew?” the voice of Pastor O’Neil sliced through the room. Drew whipped her head behind her to see Pastor O’Neil standing at the doorway to his office dressed in his winter coat. 

“What are you doing?” he chuckled.

“I was just---,” Drew turned her head only to find that Aphrodite was no where to be found, “I was just…getting right with god. Thought I’d give it one last try before I finally decide to drive into oncoming traffic,” The pastor let out a laugh.

“I appreciate your sense of humor, but I don’t think this is the time or place for that kind of joke. Come into my office. I just picked up a heater,” Drew regained her composure and made her way into the pastor’s office. 

When she stepped into his office she was hit with the intense heat coming from the heater plugged into the corner of his office. Drew unzipped her puffy jacket and tossed it onto the empty chair next to hers. As she watched the pastor try to gather the papers on his desk she noticed how much older he was. She still pictured the young man who had just gotten clean and was sharing his stories on the street to get people to come to the church for his sermons. Now he was a middle-aged black man with greying hair and a wrinkled face that made him seem much older than his actual age. Maybe managing a church that attracts the vagrants of society is a lot more stressful than she initially thought.

“Okay. I’m finished for the moment,” The pastor let out a sigh as he sat down in his chair, “So what are you doing here?”

“You called me last night about a case,” 

There was a moment of silence where he stared at her with wide vacant eyes. Then he snapped his fingers as the realization dawned on him. 

“Right! Sorry, my mind has been…all over the place lately. Comes with age, I suppose,” he laughed, “Anyway. The case. I need you talk to someone for me,” 

“Who is it?” The pastor pulled his phone out to show Drew a picture of a teenage girl with messy blonde hair and deep set brown eyes. She was considerably skinny with clothes that seemed too big for her body.

“Is she missing?” Drew asked. 

“She was for three nights. I was going to call you to find her for me until she came back last night talking about how she’s ‘found enlightenment,’” the pastor explained, “I optimistically thought she meant that she was going to go back to her family and start taking her studies seriously but then she started talking about a woman that made her feel special and told her truth about the world,”

Drew reached into her jacket’s pocket and pulled out her box of Marlboros.

“Sounds like the beginning of a cult,” she observed while she placed a cigarette between her glossed lips, “Got a lighter?” The pastor reached over and took the cigarette from her while giving her the disapproving look of a parent. Drew slumped her shoulders in defeat.

“Might be a cult. Might not be. There’s plenty of crazy people around here that want to take advantage of kids. It was just the way she talked about this woman. Like she was in love or something. I couldn’t get anything else out of her. She stonewalled all my attempts to find out more,” 

“How old is the girl?” 

“Fifteen,”

A cringe crossed Drew’s face. The pastor nodded in agreement. 

“You see why I’m worried? Grown folks shouldn’t be sniffing around children. Just talk to her and do that magic thing you do where people do what you say just because you tell them to,” 

“It’s called Charmspeak,” Drew reminded him, “And I’ll see what I can do. What’s her name and when can I catch her?” 

“Her name is Melody Kelly. She’ll probably be back here tonight. The poor girl is homeless so sometimes she’ll spend the night here. If you come to tonight’s sermon you might be able to catch her,” 

“We’ll see what happens,” Drew took her jacket off the chair, “Is that all?”

“Why are you in such a rush to leave? You got plans?” he asked, trying not to seem so annoyed with her. 

“Yup. Got a long day of drinking and smoking and lots and lots of sex. You know, all that good sinner shit,” Drew replied with sarcasm dripping from her words, “Not really. Just a long day of playing with makeup and watching Golden Girls,”

“I know I tell you this almost every time we talk but I’m---,” 

“Worried about me. I know. And like I tell you every time, I’m fine. I appreciate the concern but really. There’s nothing you can do for me anymore. I’m all grown up,”

“It doesn’t matter if you’re fourteen or twenty-five. As your only friend, it’s my job to call you out when you’re fucking up and you are fucking up monumentally. With the way you drink and smoke, I’m surprised you haven’t landed yourself in the hospital,” 

“You’re saying this like I have a problem. I really don’t. I’m holding down a job---,” 

“You don’t even have an office! You’re running your business out of your living room!” 

“But I have one! I haven’t been late on any of my bills since I got back, I’m about to pay off my car. I just indulge like any other twenty something!” 

“You’re a sad drunk. Twenty something year olds drink to have a good time and make fun memories. You drink because you’re sad and alone and you’re spiraling. Every relationship you’ve had that I have had the misfortune of watching, has ended because you couldn’t be vulnerable for ten minutes to make the guy feel like you loved him. You’re not an alcoholic now, as far as I know, but with the way you’re going, your ass is going to end up here every Saturday night telling your story at Alcoholics Anonymous,”

Drew leaned back in her chair. A mirthless chuckle escaping her lips. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She closed her eyes tight to keep the tears from rolling down her cheeks. The truth in his words cut her to core.

“I’m out,” she told him bitterly. She didn’t wait to hear his response. She stormed out of the church, desperately wanting to retreat to the safety of her home.

The ride home was spent with Drew trying to stay under the speed limit and keep her composure long enough for her to buy another bottle of Jack Daniels without crying. She pulled into the parking lot of her apartment building. She walked into the old red brick building cradling the brown paper bag that held her whiskey and Skittles. She pushed open the door using her back and with her free hand, fished around the paper bag for her candy. When her boots finally stepped onto the tile floor she looked up and caught the sight of another unwanted face from her past. 

“Holy shit, it’s you,” Drew gasped. 

“Hey, friend,” Leo Valdez gave her a smug smile as he leaned back on the staircase that lead to her apartment, “It’s good to see you too,”

“I just can’t catch a fucking break today,”


End file.
